


Tales of Amber

by Paclipas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Drunken Kissing, Episode Tag, Episode: s14e08 Byzantium, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 23:43:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16922628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paclipas/pseuds/Paclipas
Summary: Some secrets need to be drowned in whiskey -  but sometimes it's the alcohol that brings them to light.An episode tag to 14x8 "Byzantium"





	Tales of Amber

**Part I:**

**Whiskey Against Crystal**

 

Everybody has their own little safety spot in the world. A place that makes them feel invincible, where nothing can come and take them away. Castiel over the years found that, to him, that place was with the Winchesters. Regardless of the countless times they had been captured, tortured or worse together he still felt a sense of belonging each time he set foot in the Men of Letters bunker the brothers had made their home. They welcomed him each time, after each lie, each betrayal – he was always allowed back.

He was family.

Which made the fact that he could not let himself return this time that much more painful. All of them had just lost their boy, and brought him back. Castiel could not put the people he cared about the most through losing someone else immediately after. The solution was simple. He could not allow himself to be happy. Not without consequence.

This was the reason why, when Castiel left the bunker for what he thought may be the last time, he was careful not to let his final handshakes and the last look down the staircase he allowed himself linger too much. So as not to give anything away.

Only that Jack, of course, knew what had happened in Heaven. The angel trusted the boy not to say anything, and since Jack had been raised in truest Winchester fashion he would certainly keep the promise he made.

The angel smiled sadly to himself as he got into his truck and drove off into the night. When the bunker disappeared from his rearview mirror, so did the smile.

Weeks passed.

Castiel frequently checked in with the hunters, partly to make sure things were okay, and partly to indulge in his own longing to spend time with them. His conversations with Sam mostly consisted of updates on the hunters from Apocalypse World but as the people adjusted more and more to life in their new universe, their stories morphed into normal hunting trip experiences. Salt and burns, demon traps, silver bullets. Castiel was happy for them. None would ever lead a normal life, a life any human deserved, but they could at the end of the day go to bed in a world without an angel war raging around them- for now. Sam had helped all of these refugees so much initially, and of course still felt responsible whenever something went awry on a hunt. On those days, Castiel made sure to offer words of reassurance to the younger Winchester.

Conversations with Jack were of a different nature. Mostly they were happy. Jack had made it his goal to learn something about himself or the world on each day after his resurrection. Life was short- so why shouldn’t he make it count. Castiel agreed. So he listened happily to each and every detail Jack felt was profound enough to share. From any new music group he found he enjoyed, to people he met, Castiel took in everything. The fatherly affection he held for the boy was still a feeling that he was not used to. He felt pride, love, fear for this half-human that he had protected since his creation. But not all of their conversations were lighthearted. The longer Castiel stayed away, the more Jack pleaded with him to come clean to the Winchesters, so they could find a way out of the verbal contract the angel had sold himself to. Of course this was out of the question. He would not drag the brothers into this mess. His mess. There was a limit to how often fate could be tricked and their dysfunctional family had more than exhausted their luck. Everyone had given so much, and lost even more. This time it was Castiel’s responsibility to face the consequences of their fight with destiny once and for all. Jack would learn to understand that.

Dean on the other hand… he could never know about what Castiel had done. Of the sacrifice he would eventually make. That’s why the angel kept his contact with the older Winchester at a minimum. It hurt, but ultimately it was what Castiel believed they both needed. They had come too close to something deeply unacknowledged after Jack’s death. Something that had no place in their world.

Sometimes, when Castiel lay awake at night in a shabby motel room somewhere in the Midwest he allowed his thoughts to go back to those moments that had shaken his world to its core.

 **...** _  
_

Grief did something funny to humans. It made them act completely numb, while they at the same time radiated such immense pain. It took Castiel’s breath away to see Sam and Dean falling into the deep dark pit of nothingness that swallowed them each time they lost somebody. He felt it too, it gnawed at him but the devastation he felt gave him footing at the same time. The Empty had taught him what true Nothingness was like, and as much as the loss of Jack broke his heart it was _something_.

As they sat together in Jack’s honor it was a celebration of his short life. Their night filled with laughter instead of tears as they shared stories of their experiences with the boy. Each of them had been a teacher, a father figure, even though none of them had had a role model worth mentioning in that regard. It was a lighthearted atmosphere under such dire circumstances. As the liquor flowed and their words became slurry, more sentimental, it was Sam who excused himself first, leaving Castiel alone with Dean in the bunker kitchen. The hunter stared absentmindedly into the remains of amber in the glass in front of him and Castiel took the liberty to refill it. The action earned him a drunken _thank you_ to which the angel raised his own glass, downing the rest of its contents.

For a long time the only sound between them was the trickling of Whiskey against crystal as they sat in companionable silence. Every once in a while their eyes would meet and reveal the agony the alcohol kept at bay. Castiel also saw something else in Dean’s gaze, something that was usually so thoroughly hidden away that the angel almost believed it only existed in his own imagination: Longing- though it was not clear to him for what exactly. Or maybe it was clear as day.

“Can’t believe he’s gone,” Dean finally slurred out, his words cutting harshly through the silence.

“I know.”

“Would’ve been a great hunter,” Dean continued on, more to himself than the angel. “Wish he could’ve had it better ‘n that.”

“I know.” It was the only response Castiel had to offer, sensing that the Winchester just had to get those thoughts off his chest by uttering them aloud.

“I mean… that kid had more than just a lifetime in front of him. Unlucky bastard didn’t deserve to lose it to us. We just take ‘n take, all the damn time. When does it stop, Cas?” With those words Dean looked up at Castiel, and the angel immediately sobered up at the silent cry in the hunter’s eyes.

“Dean…” He was at a loss for what to say. There were no words to take away the self-loathing so ingrained in the man that always gave everything of himself to those he loved. Instead, Castiel settled for a reassuring hand on the hunter’s shoulder, vowing that from now on he would use his angelic powers against the inebriation he had allowed himself to feel in favor of watching over Dean.

The hunter blinked a couple of times before dropping his gaze again, his eyes reclaimed by drunken fog.  “Glad you’re here,” he admitted quietly.

“Of course. Jack was my responsibility, too.”

“More ‘n just that, man.”

True. But too painful to acknowledge at this point of the night. There would be a time for feeling the loss at the hunter’s funeral scheduled for the next day. For now, Castiel still focused on the fondness in his heart.

Dean poured himself a new drink, emptying yet another bottle. For a moment the angel was tempted to gently take it from his friend’s hand but ultimately who was he to interfere in Dean’s coping mechanism. Finally, he decided that maybe it would be best to leave.

“It has been a long day,” he said as he got up, swaying on his legs from the liquor still in his system. There was no point in trying to get Dean to do the same, he knew as much. He patted the hunter’s shoulder. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Cas,” Dean replied without looking up.

 

Once in his room, Castiel lay on the mattress and stared at the old ceiling above. Sleep would not come to him. Not that he particularly needed it. It just helped to pass the time and numb the pain that grew more and more persistent as it constricted around the angel’s heart. He felt the absence of a soul in the bunker, the lack of one particular life all too tangible to his celestial senses. The tears in his eyes had crept up on him and he only realized that he was crying when they drew hot lines down his cheeks.

He could not let himself fall.

The others needed him.

And he- he needed-

“Cas?”

The voice came from just outside his door. Castiel sniffed and wiped the tears away before swiftly getting up and bracing himself for whatever it was Dean asked of him. The hunter stood in front of him as he opened the door, heavily leaning on its frame and swaying back and forth as he and the Whiskey battled for his balance. Their eyes met and Castiel only had a second to see the raw emotion in Dean’s before he had to catch the hunter as the Whiskey won and he tipped forward.

“Please…” Dean mumbled against the fabric of Castiel’s shirt. The angel would have given anything at that moment, but he truly did not know what the Winchester needed from him. However it was not long until he got his answer when Dean pulled himself up into a more upright stance and in a suddenly very deliberate movement dragged the angel’s face close to his. “Help me take the pain away,” he whispered huskily, his words carrying the smell of alcohol. “Just for tonight.”

The angel did not have the strength to deny the request. With a sigh Castiel allowed Dean to pull at his collar until they were close enough for their lips to touch. It was an aimless kiss with the angel too careful and the hunter too drunk to achieve any harmony in the act. Castiel knew he probably indulged in it for a moment too long, before he could convince himself to pull away and guide the hunter back to the table in the bunker kitchen where he would forget this shared moment of weakness ever happened while it would be burned into Castiel’s memory forever.

…           

**Author's Note:**

> Hooo boy, it's been a while. 
> 
> I've allowed myself to get rusty in my writing, I'm afraid, so this is by far not the most stellar of pieces, but I felt the need to deal with things from last episode the only way I can.


End file.
